Meeting The Wilmars

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On Saturday morning, I got ready and put on a light-blue mermaid dress. When I saw Conan's car pull up, I grabbed my white clutch, said goodbye to Milky, and went downstairs.

Conan opened the rear door from inside the limo. He was wearing a white button-down shirt and designer jeans.

"You look nice," he said.

"Thanks."

It took about an hour to get to Staten Island. The car drove through the tree-lined streets and pulled up to a gated driveway.

The gate slid sideways and we inched toward the security booth. Two guards stepped in front of the car and motioned for us to get out.

"Guys, you know me. Is this really necessary?" asked Conan as he got out of the car.

"Sorry Mr. Casey. We can't take any chances," said the head guard.

"You're right, but hurry up."

"Yes sir."

The guards ran hand-held metal detectors over us, scanned the car for explosives, and checked my bag.

"All clear," said the head guard.

We got back in the car and slowly made our way along the driveway. There were sculptures dotted around the perfect green lawn and a decorative pavilion overlooked a duck pond with swans.

The car stopped in front of a sprawling modern mansion with a lot of shiny glass. It was practically surrounded by a small forest of towering trees.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilmar were waving at us from the front door. Mrs. Wilmar's sparkling diamond necklace stood out on top of her long purple dress with a faint floral pattern. Mr. Wilmar was wearing simple khaki pants and a white polo shirt.

Conan's face lit up when he saw his parents. He enthusiastically waved back at them.

My heart was pounding and I wanted to run away. I shouldn't be here ... not yet. My allegiance is still to the White Queen.

Conan got out of the car and offered me his hand, but I was frozen in my seat.

He leaned over and looked at me. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not ready for this," I said. "It's too soon."

"Well we're here now. Come on. My parents are nice."

"What if they don't like me?"

"It doesn't matter," he whispered. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Take my hand."

"Okay." I reluctantly took his hand and got out of the car.

He put his arm tightly around my waist as we walked to the steps.

"Scarlet, I'd like to introduce you to my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Wilmar."

"Pleased to meet you," I said, holding out my hand.

"Call me Susanne," said Mrs. Wilmar with a warm smile. "It's lovely to meet you." She took my hand in both of hers and gently shook it.

A strange sensation radiated up my arm. It was somehow familiar, and visions of yellow sunflower fields whooshed through my mind. Mrs. Wilmar had long blond hair, just like my mother. The wrinkles on her face made me think she was in her mid-fifties, and her hazel eyes reminded me of mine. I looked closely at her face. Could she be? No, don't be silly. I shook off the feeling and smiled.

"I hear great things about you." Mr. Wilmar gave me a firm handshake. "You may call me Johnson."

Johnson Wilmar was known in the company as the Eagle, and he looked exactly like his pictures. His eagle-like eyes were set in a round face, and his gray and white hair was starting to thin a bit around his temples and forehead.

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